


The Last Eve of Spring

by Alexander_L



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Background Hapithea, Background Yurilix (Feliyuri), First Kiss, Golden Deer Sylvain Jose Gautier, M/M, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Rare Pairings, Sylvain Week 2020, Sylvain finds love, Sylvain goes to the opera, Sylvain's Birthday, Sylvian has an existential crisis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:53:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24555748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexander_L/pseuds/Alexander_L
Summary: Sylvain has always hated his birthday and every year he tries to avoid it. So when the Golden Deer throw him a grand birthday celebration, he panics. But as the night progresses and Sylvain finds surprise after surprise, he realizes that maybe it's not too late to form new associations with something that has always been painful. And maybe this happy birthday is the first of many good memories.For Sylvain's birthday, I wanted to combine some very on-brand Sylvain things into a short story: the opera, existential crises, loyal friends, and romance. Add to it a healthy serving of some Very Rare Pairs, and you have this one-shot that chronicles Sylvain's 26th birthday party from start to finish.
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 20
Kudos: 41





	The Last Eve of Spring

Contrary to popular belief, Sylvain had not joined the Golden Deer house all those years ago for the professor. He had done it for a wide variety of reasons, both personal and political.

The first was because, with the exception of Lorenz, the Golden Deer generally did not give a flying fuck about nobility and crests.

The second was because Felix worshipped the ground Byleth stood on and Sylvain knew that where he went Felix would follow.

The third was because he had the sense that Claude von Riegan had plans – big plans – and Sylvain was curious to find out what they were.

But what really sealed the deal was the fact his decision spit in the face of all of his father’s expectations for him. Sylvain could still hear the tirade the margrave had given him ring in his ears to this day. He had accepted that black eye with a gleeful smile, knowing that no amount of strongly worded letters to the administration of Garreg Mach were going to make any difference, for Rhea would hand them to Byleth and Byleth would tear them up and toss them in the trash. 

Sylvain was a Golden Deer. That was that. And when Byleth had finally written Margrave Gautier back, Sylvain had stolen the letter to read it before it was sent and laughed until he was blue in the face, for it had simply said:

_ ‘Mr. Gautier, _

_ Please stop writing to me. I have classes to teach. Your son is fine. He is a constant headache but also one of the smartest students in my house. His education is progressing well and he seems much happier. So if you continue to harass me or him on the matter, I will regretfully be forced to tell you to go fuck yourself. _

_ Best regards, _

_ B. Eisner’ _

Those were all excellent reasons during his academy days. But here, in darker times, Sylvain had discovered a far more important reason to be grateful he had switched houses: the Golden Deer had hope. It wasn’t that they were somehow all born with optimistic spirits and good cheer. No, they built their hope from the ground up. They nurtured it and fought for it like their lives depended on it.

The Deer, along with the collection of misfits from other houses they had adopted, knew how to laugh and they knew how to make even the worst of days still worth living. It was evidenced in the little things like the way they would all sit down to a meager dinner thrown together from half-stale rations and treat it with the merriment of a feast. Everyone chipped in to keep that hope alive and to bring joy to each other. 

One of his favorite of these efforts was the bimonthly Garreg Mach Opera Night that Dorothea and Hilda had established, with enthusiastic support from Ferdinand who loved singing and amused encouragement from Claude who just enjoyed sitting in the back and watching people make fools of themselves.

It was a mutual desire to laugh and forget about the real world for a couple hours that brought them all together on these nights. Ferdinand claimed a spot in the front row and convinced Sylvain to move up from the back rows to sit with him. Sylvain strong-armed Felix in, Felix brought Yuri and Yuri somehow persuaded Hapi to come along even though she generally disliked leaving Abyss. Together they formed a small gang of supportive fans that showed up without fail each time.

“What is it this time?” Felix asked as he slouched into his seat beside Sylvain, propping his feet up on the edge of the stage and sighing in resignation, as if he did not secretly love every moment of the performances. 

“I heard that Ashe talked Dorothea into reenacting some old story about the Luna Knight. Should be pretty full of action and drama and, knowing Ashe, probably a decent amount of smutty romance too.”

“Perfect,” Hapi said as she and Yuri walked in. “I love the smutty ones.”

“Really? I wouldn’t have pegged you for a romantic,” Sylvain said.

“No thanks, Gautier. I don’t want pegging of any kind from you,” she replied and Felix snorted.

“Hapi!” Yuri said in a scandalized tone. “Sweet innocent Ferdie’s walking over and you’ll make him blush all the way to his ears if you say things like that. Those kinds of jokes are  _ unbefitting of a noble _ .”

“I’m not a noble.”

“Yeah but you’re in the company of them,” Yuri replied.

“If Ginger doesn’t like smutty jokes how the fuck is he friends with Gautier?” she asked.

“Because I’ve grown respectable in my old age. Besides, he’s friends with everyone. I’m not-” Sylvain stopped as Ferdinand came within earshot and smiled over at him. “Hey, Ferdie!”

“What’s up, Ginger?” Hapi said. 

Yuri gave him a friendly nod and Felix bestowed a brief withering scowl on him. Ferdinand responded to each greeting, even Felix’s, with a bright smile.

“I am sorry I am late. I was having a word with Dorothea backstage,” he said, taking his usual seat. But as Ferdinand leaned forward, tapping one foot nervously on the ground and clasping and unclasping his hands, Sylvain could see clearly that he was trying and failing to hide excitement about something.

“Everything alright?” he asked, his voice quiet enough that the others couldn’t hear.

“What?” Ferdinand asked distractedly. “Oh yes, everything is fine, Sylvain. Thank you.” He breathed a sigh of relief when Dorothea tugged the curtain aside and walked out onto the stage. “Oh look, we are starting.”

The room fell quiet as Dorothea walked to the front of the stage, for despite the usual ridiculous shenanigans that occurred during Opera Night, Dorothea at least was viewed with respect for salvaging the haphazard performances with her remarkable voice and captivating presence.

“Good evening, friends!” she said. “I have an announcement to make before we begin. Our previously scheduled performance of  _ The Luna Knight _ has been postponed until next time. Today we will be performing, per special request, some excerpts from a more traditional opera. It is one very dear to my heart as I played the heroine in it many times during my songstress days. It is generally heralded as one of the more elegant and emotional operas to grace the music halls of Fódlan and I hope you will enjoy our best attempts at a rendition of it tonight, as well as a performance from a very special guest who has graciously agreed to join us, just this once. So without further ado, I present  _ The Last Eve of Spring _ .”

Sylvain stiffened instantly at the title and leaned over to hiss in Felix’s ear, “Did you put them up to this?”

“What? No. I don’t even know what this is,” Felix replied. 

“I told you not to tell anyone it’s my birthday.”

“I didn’t. What does this have to do with your birthday?”

“It’s my favorite,” he replied. “But I never thought I’d get to see it again after…”

“Maybe Thea just likes it.”

“Hm.”

Sylvain turned his attention back to the stage and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ferdinand watching him anxiously. He flashed him a casual smile but Ferdinand only looked more worried.

“Do you not care for this opera?” he whispered in Sylvain’s ear.

“No, that’s not it at all. It’s my favorite, in fact. I’m just surprised Thea would choose it. It’s not easy to perform and she’ll need a strong singer to accompany her for the prince’s part.”

“She has talented backup this time,” Ferdinand replied.

“Who? You?”

Ferdinand smiled. “No, not me. I am nowhere near skilled enough to play the prince. Now hush; it is starting.”

Sylvain sighed and leaned back in his seat, propping his ankle up on his knee and fixing a nonchalant smile on his face to hide his discomfort. Perhaps it was narcissistic of him to assume it was more than coincidence, but he couldn’t shake the feeling it was purposeful. And if that was the case, it was definitely meant kindly. It just still made him anxious. There were a lot of things in this world he hated, but his birthday was further up on the list than most of them. 

Telling himself to stop being a jerk and relax, he readjusted his posture to make sure beyond a doubt that it looked perfectly unconcerned, appreciative even. Then he prepared his nerves for whatever was about to happen. It was either going to be a disaster, which would be painful given his love for the opera. Or – and this perhaps scared him more – it might actually be beautiful, and he wasn’t sure he was able to handle that either.

He had seen  _ The Last Eve of Spring _ in Enbarr while on a diplomatic errand from his father. It had been the first trip he had been sent on alone and he had made a whole host of plans of what he would do with his glorious week of freedom in a city where no one outside of court knew him.

He remembered the performance vividly to this day – the small private opera box he’d spent most of his allowance for the trip on, the way the acoustics of the gorgeous old opera hall had made the music sound richer and more poignant than any he had ever heard before. He remembered walking back to the inn instead of hiring a carriage and milling through the streets, lost in thought, his mind humming with his favorite refrains. He had made plans to go drinking with a dancer after the performance and had completely forgotten about it, too wrapped up in the pensive, spell-struck feeling the music left him with to even remember who and where he was.

To Sylvain,  _ The Last Eve of Spring _ was more than a score and storyline. It was a symbol of freedom to him, something he had done simply because he wanted to, with no one there to judge him either with praise or censure. Hidden away in that dark opera box, he’d been able to let tears come to his eyes during the hauntingly beautiful songs and to sit on the edge of his seat during the tense and thrilling parts of the story, completely engrossed without a hint of self-consciousness.

He held that memory close like a secret, a painful but wonderful piece of freedom that he would never have again, for upon his return to Faerghus he had turned eighteen and officially begun the training that was meant to prepare him to take his father’s place someday as margrave. 

“Well friends, we’ve had a good run and it’s been nice knowing you,” Yuri said, getting to his feet as the performers filed onto the stage.

“Where are you going?” Felix asked.

“To my doom. Farewell, comrades. Remember me for my smile.”

With the dramatic, world-weary sigh of a man resigned to his own death, Yuri stepped up onto the stage along with them. The whole room went quiet in astonishment and Sylvain looked at Felix for answers.

“I thought he hated singing in public,” he whispered.

“He does,” Felix replied. “I have no idea what he’s doing. Does Thea have blackmail on him? Hapi, what do you know? Spill it.”

But Hapi just shushed him with an annoyed look.

Yuri pointed out at the small audience and said, “After tonight you all will leave here and purge this memory from your brains. Understood?”

There were many confused looks and a few frightened nods, for the people who didn’t know Yuri were fairly intimidated by him and those who did were even more so.

Yuri smirked and took the prince’s crown from Dorothea, setting it on his head and adjusting it carefully. “Alright, Ladybird. Let’s knock ‘em dead.”

The Garreg Mach Opera Night lacked one fundamental part of opera and that was an orchestra. All they had was Ashe on a fiddle and Ignatz on a beat-up old piano they had found locked away in a store room behind the cathedral. But as soon as the first few lines of the opening song began and Yuri took center stage, the accompaniment became an afterthought. His voice was enrapturing, softer and huskier than Dorothea’s strong soprano, and yet full of the same power and presence.

The harmony of the two took Sylvain’s breath away. The frozen smile slipped from his face and his perfectly arranged posture eased. Within minutes he was leaning forward in his seat, eyes wide and wonder-struck, his mind free of any thoughts of himself. Just like that night in the opera hall of Enbarr, all the anxiety and pressure and bitterness of being Sylvain Gautier vanished, replaced with the enchanting anonymity of simply being a person in the audience who no one gave a fuck about, listening along with everyone else to something so precious and so exquisite that nothing else in that moment mattered.

Yuri and Dorothea sang their way through the first few pieces, with supporting performances from Hilda, who seemed to have actually put work into it this time, and – wonder of wonders – Claude, who carried the entire weight of the choreography on his shoulders because no one other than Yuri and Dorothea seemed very confident in the dancing department. Sylvain had danced with Claude enough at the ball years ago to know he could cut a rug with the best of them, but he had never seen Claude perform at their Opera Nights in any capacity. Why would he go out of his way to do so tonight?

If this was the normal standard of quality for the Garreg Mach Opera Night, they could form a troupe and tour the world. Even Lorenz, Marianne, Petra and Raphael stepped up to valiantly provide backup vocals. 

At this point, Sylvain was half-expecting Felix to get up there and belt out some lines because apparently this was a night for precedents to be broken. But at least some things in his life remained constant for Felix stayed in his seat and watched silently.

Then all of a sudden it was intermission and thunderous applause was filling the room. 

“Fifteen minutes, everyone!” Dorothea shouted over the clapping. “Be back or you’ll miss the best part!”

Sylvain heard Felix mutter, “What the fuck did we just witness?”

“Art,” Hapi said, her voice thick with emotion. 

“What did you think, Sylvain? Was it not-” Ferdinand began but Sylvain jumped to his feet and mumbled something about needing water.

He fled the room like an army was at his heels and didn’t stop running until he had found a patch of shadows behind the cathedral where he figured no one would bother him. Leaning against the wall, he took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly.

He was right. It was definitely worse that it was good. He wished now it had been an absolute travesty.

“Sylvain?” Ferdinand said, turning the corner and catching sight of him.

Sylvain swore under his breath and pasted what he hoped was a convincing smile on his face. “Hey, buddy. I just popped out for a smoke. But you don’t like tobacco, do you?”

Ferdinand walked over to stand beside him, studying him in concern. “I do not mind the smell of it, even though I do not partake myself.”

Silently cursing the fact he didn’t actually have any cigarettes on him, Sylvain struggled to think of a different cover story.

“This has caused you distress instead of joy. I am sorry. It was not meant to,” Ferdinand said.

So it was meant for him. Sylvain laughed nervously and said, “Are you kidding? It was incredible! Who knew Claude could dance, huh? And Yuri’s voice! Damn, I would die for a voice like that. Why aren’t you up there? Seems like everyone is getting on that stage tonight and you are an excellent singer.”

“I wished to enjoy the performance with you,” he answered sincerely. “Dorothea told me it was your favorite and since it is your birthday today, we thought it would be-”

“How did you know? Was it Felix? Because Felix should know better than to tell anyone. He knows how much I-” Sylvain stopped abruptly, hearing the harshness in his tone and realizing that he was being a complete asshole right now complaining about what was possibly the kindest thing anyone had ever done for him. “I’m sorry. I’m just being an idiot. Thank you, Ferdie. Seriously, thank you. It was really sweet of you all to do this.”

“It was Byleth, not Felix. She told Dorothea and I, and we decided to plan something for you. Dorothea said she saw you at the Mittelfrank Opera Hall when the play was originally performed and that you looked quite mesmerized by it.”

“Thea was there? I didn’t even know her at the time,” he said.

“She knew who you were. She had done research on who she would be attending school with after she got accepted into Garreg Mach. I imagine she knew more about all of us back then than we did about each other.” Ferdinand smiled. “She would make an excellent spy.”

Sylvain smiled back vaguely. “Yeah.”

“I did not know you wished your birthday to be kept secret. I apologize,” Ferdinand said.

“No, Ferdie, stop. Don’t apologize. I should be the one apologizing. I’m ruining everything, aren’t I?”

Ferdinand moved closer and leaned against the wall next to him. He stared out into the night and gave Sylvain a chance to get his expression under control. Then he said quietly, “How about instead of apologizing back and forth, you tell me what is wrong so that I can fix it.”

“It’s not your problem to fix.”

“I am your friend, am I not?” Ferdinand asked.

“Of course you are.”

“Then your concerns are my concerns. So how can I make up for the discomfort I have caused you?”

Sylvain knew he could keep protesting and deflecting, but he also knew that Ferdinand was as stubborn as a mule and wasn’t always so good at knowing when to drop a subject.

“Just give me a moment to get over myself. That’s all that needs to happen. I… I don’t have many good memories of birthdays, so I just tend to avoid them. It makes it easier. When I’m faced to confront the existence of the day, I get all stupid and sad and caught up in the past.” Sylvain shrugged. “So it’s nothing you did wrong. I’m just being stupid.”

“You have used that word twice now to describe yourself. If you use it a third time I will be forced to challenge you to a duel to defend the honor of my friend. Because no one calls Sylvain Gautier stupid around me. He is one of the smartest people I know and I will not stand for such lies being spoken about him,” Ferdinand said. His tone was serious, but when Sylvain glanced over at him he saw a bit of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Sylvain laughed. “I don’t know if I can beat you in a duel. I better shut up then.”

The two were silent for a minute until Sylvain asked, “Why did you plan all this for me? It must have taken a lot of work to find the score and practice it, not to mention you roped Yuri and Claude into this, which must have taken a hefty bribe or significant blackmail.”

Ferdinand looked confused. “We did it because we are your friends. Why else?”

“I had no idea people liked me this much. I’m struggling to understand what I did.”

“You have fought beside us, made us laugh during dark times, inspired us with courage and loyalty. You obviously care deeply about your friends. I do not understand why you would assume the feeling is not mutual.”

Sylvain knew that this was approaching dangerous conversational territory, namely his abysmal lack of self-worth that he was well aware of and generally preferred to not analyze. Like his birthday, the neuroses his brain was riddled with were best ignored and buried.

“Well, I’m touched. Really, I am. I don’t know what to say,” he replied, and he didn’t have to fake the words because his gratitude was ultimately deeper than his discomfort.

“Say you will return inside and enjoy the rest of the play with me,” Ferdinand said with a smile, holding out his hand.

The offer surprised Sylvain but he took his hand nonetheless and kept hold of it even once they had returned to the cathedral-turned-performance-hall. People were too wrapped up in conversation about the play to notice and Sylvain allowed Ferdinand to lead him back to their seats without tugging his hand away. After all, the small gesture of encouragement was comforting. As a fellow cavalier, Ferdinand was at his side during every battle and they had developed a habit of looking out for each other. It was nice to know that support was not just reserved for the battlefield.

“Ferdie,” Sylvain said quietly as they took their seats. 

“Yes?”

“You’re a good friend. A better one than I deserve. Thank you.”

Ferdinand gave him that warm, genuine smile of his and said, “I think you deserve a lot more than you realize. But I am glad you think me a good friend. I try my best to be.”

To Sylvain’s amazement, Ferdinand intertwined their fingers and rested their hands down on the seat between them without letting go. Thankfully Felix was busy staring at Yuri with dazed, love-struck eyes and Hapi was busy staring down into a bottle of ale with a stunned expression, so neither of them noticed.

“My favorite piece from this opera is the Dark Swan Aria,” Ferdinand said, leaning close to murmur in Sylvain’s ear. “I never had a chance to see the original tour of this play but I saw its second run where Dorothea played the heroine. Her performance of the aria took my breath away. I have been looking forward to hearing her sing it again. Which is your favorite?”

“The aria is beautiful, but I think a close tie is the duet at the end,” he replied.

“Indeed. Both are marvelous pieces.”

“I never would have expected the next time I’d hear them would be in the middle of a war,” Sylvain said.

“I think it is times like these when we need art the most,” Ferdinand replied, “to remind us that there was a life before this and there will be afterwards.”

Not for the first time, Sylvain wanted to ask Ferdinand how he did it, how he managed to say optimistic things like that all the time and sound like he actually meant them. But as Sylvain turned to face him and ask, his words stuck in his throat, for he abruptly became very aware of how close they were sitting and how Ferdinand’s face was only inches from his own. With a questioning look, Ferdinand met his gaze and Sylvain forgot entirely what he was going to say because he was thinking instead about whether or not he had ever fully appreciated how beautiful those warm golden eyes were, how they reminded him of a wheatfield in summer. That maybe didn’t sound like a flattering comparison, but Sylvain had always loved going for long rides through the fields in the summer, listening to the hum of crickets, feeling the sunlight on his skin… 

“What are you thinking?” Ferdinand murmured.

It took Sylvain a moment to register the question and realize he needed to form a coherent reply to hide the fact he had been thinking about whether Ferdinand’s beautiful eyes would look at him fondly or with alarm and disdain if he were to lean in and kiss him. It was hard to tell with him. He was so friendly with everyone and very physically affectionate in general in platonic ways. Even here with him holding Sylvain’s hand and leaning in so close, it could mean nothing.

“Sorry. I just got lost in thought for a second,” Sylvain answered. “I was remembering the time I saw the play in Enbarr. Dorothea was right; I was pretty mesmerized.”

“Alright, get your asses back in your seats!” Yuri hollered, taking center stage. “We’re back on.”

Ferdinand gave Sylvain’s hand a squeeze as the lights in the hall dimmed and everyone took their places on stage again.

Felix poked Sylvain’s shoulder and whispered, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he replied.

The second half of the opera was even more beautiful than the first and once again Sylvain became too engrossed in it to give much heed to his own conflicted thoughts. At the climax of the play he felt Ferdinand’s hand clutching his tightly and realized that their fingers were still intertwined. He had completely forgotten.

He smiled faintly when he glanced at Ferdinand and saw his eyes glistening a bit. As Dorothea sang the evocative melody of the Dark Swan Aria, Sylvain looked around the room and even in the dim light, he could see that same emotion mirrored on everyone’s faces.

Then the aria led into the finale – a powerful, hope-fueled duet between the hero and heroine, with the last chorus supported by all the side characters. And before Sylvain knew it, the play was over and the room was filled with clapping and whistling and a very loud whoop from Felix who immediately looked mortified when he realized what he had done.

Ferdinand let go of his hand as he jumped to his feet and clapped, and for a second Sylvain felt vaguely adrift, like someone had cut the rope to his anchor. Brushing the feeling aside, he joined in the standing ovation.

“Alright, alright,” Yuri shouted over the clamor. “You know the drill, friends. Treasure this sweet memory in your hearts but forget I was a part of it. Ask me to sing ever again and there will be hell to pay.” 

He gave Dorothea a peck on the cheek before jumping down from the stage and sauntering over to Felix, who grabbed him and kissed him then promptly bolted out of the cathedral. Yuri laughed and chatted with Hapi for a minute before giving chase.

“Sylvain,” Dorothea said, walking over to smile playfully at him. “What did you think? Did we do it justice?”

“It was incredible,” he replied. “Thank you for… for all of this.”

“I was going to make a little speech at the end wishing you a happy birthday but apparently Felix gave Yuri an earful during intermission about how we shouldn’t do that. At any rate, happy birthday. Now, let’s go drink, boys,” she said. “This night is only just beginning.”

As she led them to the dining hall, she talked enthusiastically with Ferdinand about the play, and since Sylvain couldn’t get a word in edgewise anyways, he took the opportunity to gather his thoughts and prepare for the upcoming merriment. This whole thing was overwhelming, but he refused to turn down a chance to party just because he was being stupid about this birthday business.

In the dining hall, he let himself be pulled over to the counter where shots of liquor and mugs of ale were already waiting, thanks to some impromptu bartending from Balthus. After enough alcohol to take the edge of his anxiety, he threw himself wholeheartedly into the celebration, downing shots with Byleth, accepting Claude’s challenge to a drinking game that involved a lot more intricate strategy than actual drinking, and helping Raphael push back all the tables so people could dance.

Petra taught him the steps to a dance from Brigid until Dorothea yanked him away to dance with her. The music mostly consisted of stomping feet, mugs being pounded on tables, and Ashe’s fiddle. And the more they all drank and danced, the louder the ruckus got until ‘music’ was hardly even the right word to describe it anymore.

Several times, Sylvain’s eyes wandered over to where Ferdinand was cornered on the other side of the room, trapped in conversation with Hilda and Lorenz. One of the times, Ferdinand noticed and caught his eye, offering him an apologetic smile.

“Go ask him to dance,” Dorothea said, watching their brief exchange.

“Do you think Ferdie knows how to dance like this? It’s a far cry from a waltz,” Sylvain replied.

“He is always eager to learn new things. Teach him,” she prodded. “Go! I know he wants to dance with you; he’s just too polite to walk away from a conversation.”

When Sylvain hesitated, Dorothea sighed and said, “What? Has Fódlan’s greatest flirt lost his nerve?”

“I’m just not too keen on ruining one of the few friendships I have left,” Sylvain said.

“You make it sound like you’re all alone. Did you not see everyone turn out to do something nice for you tonight?” she asked.

“There are different kinds of friends,” he replied. “I would consider everyone here a friend. But Felix and you and Ferdie… it’s a deeper kind of friendship. One I don’t want to fuck up.”

“Is that why you stopped hitting on me?”

“Yes. Also, I was worried Hapi was going to hex me.”

“Hapi? What has she got to do with it?”

Sylvain raised his eyebrows at her. “Don’t play innocent with me, Thea. Can’t you spot a crush from a mile away? Hapi adores you. She looks at you like you are the only woman in the world.”

Dorothea’s teasing smile faded and she glanced over Sylvain’s shoulder towards the bar where Hapi was sitting, drinking with Byleth. “Shit,” she murmured.

As her gaze returned to Sylvain, he gave her a knowing look. “Are you going to go ask her to dance?”

“I…”

“Yeah, I didn’t think so. You and me, we’re cut from similar cloth. Hapi is a gorgeous, funny, intelligent woman and even though you like her, you’re not going to make a move, are you? Because you don’t think you deserve someone good like that. So don’t judge me for not asking Ferdie to dance.”

Dorothea stared at him furiously and Sylvain realized he crossed a line by being so frank with her. She stopped dancing and stood still, letting the other couples whirl around them.

“I’m not the same girl I was six years ago and you’re not the same boy. We can’t keep living like we are,” she said. “You can go fuck yourself, but I’m going to go ask Hapi to dance. Maybe if you have the balls, you can follow my example and go rescue Ferdie from Lorenz. Or maybe you can keep being miserable, self-loathing twenty-year-old Sylvain at twenty-six. Your choice.”

Before Sylvain could reply, Dorothea walked boldly over to the bar, whispered something in Hapi’s ear, took her hand and pulled her to the dance floor. Wrapping her arms around Hapi’s waist, Dorothea held her close as they danced. And as Sylvain walked off the dance floor, Dorothea shot him a pointed look. But he just shrugged and slipped out of the dining hall before anyone else could talk to him.

Once he was out in the cool night air and free of the cheerful commotion of the party, he took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. The glow of the alcohol was all but faded from his mind by now and he felt a cold emptiness settling inside of him in its wake.

He strolled over to the fishing pond and sat down on the edge of the dock, taking off his boots and dipping his feet in the water.

Good for Thea. Maybe they weren’t so similar after all. Maybe the past few years had granted her enough wisdom and perspective that she could accept love without suspicion and happiness without guilt. And who knows? Maybe in another five or six years Sylvain would learn to as well. He had changed from the boy he was during their school days in many ways. There were just some things that weren’t easy to fix, no matter how aware of his own problems he was. 

“Isn’t this your party, Sylvain?”

He turned around to see Yuri leaning against the fishing supply shed and watching him.

“What happened to Felix?” Sylvain asked.

“He’s back in the dorms. I came to grab us some drinks. I’m a little stealthier so I figured I could sneak in and out undetected,” Yuri replied.

It wasn’t exactly an answer, but Sylvain could infer the rest. “Yeah, singing always makes him thirsty,” he replied with a smirk.

Yuri laughed. “You could say that, yes. But he didn’t just send me for liquor. He also sent me to check on you. I got quite the talking to, you know. In between complimenting my performance, he also said that you hated your birthday and someone should have consulted with him before we put on a whole show for you. I told him that would have spoiled the secret but he wasn’t convinced.”

“I’m sorry he gave you a lecture when you did something really amazing.”

“Oh, don’t worry, after the lecture he has been quite… well, if it were anyone other than Felix I would say ‘adorable.’”

“Good. You deserve a little healthy adoration after that spectacular performance.” Sylvain got up and shook the water off his feet. “Why did you do it? You hate singing in public. I didn’t know you and I were good enough friends to warrant such a sacrifice.”

“We’re not yet,” Yuri answered. “But I owe you, and I like to pay my debts, even if it is in unexpected ways.”

“Owe me? You don’t owe me for anything.”

“Felix fighting by my side has made a world of difference in keeping Abyss safe. And I’ve heard enough stories of the past few years to know that he wouldn’t have come back to Garreg Mach in one piece if you hadn’t had his back this whole time. So thanks. A little song and dance is nothing in return. Tell me at least that you enjoyed the opera, whether or not you liked its timing on your birthday.”

“I did. It was beautiful. Really, it was. Thank you.”

Yuri nodded. “Good. If it’s any consolation, people did it for themselves as much as for you. We all needed something to focus on outside of violence and bloodshed. Even for me… It wasn’t just charity.”

“Oh?”

“Keep this under your hat, okay, Sylvain?” Yuri cast a quick glance around to make sure no one else was in earshot. “There’s a part of me that misses singing. I used to love it and I hate that my enjoyment of it was robbed from me by too many twisted, fucked up memories. When I agreed to do this with Thea I thought it might be a good way to test the waters, see if maybe I can start forming new associations with it. I’d like to be able to get up there again someday and not hate it.”

“Did you hate it tonight?” Sylvain asked.

“No, actually. I never thought I’d be up on a stage again, let alone be celebrating my performance in the bedroom afterwards – especially that last part is something I swore I’d never do again. But it’s different with Felix. Everything’s different when it’s someone you trust.” Yuri put a casual smile on his lips to belie the sincerity of his words, much like Sylvain was used to doing. “The tricky part is finding anyone worth trusting, eh?” He turned to walk away then glanced over his shoulder. “This conversation never happened, of course.”

“Of course,” Sylvain said with a solemn nod.

Yuri winked at him and walked off, vanishing into the shadows like a wild cat in the night. 

After Yuri’s departure, no one else wandered down to find Sylvain and he was left in peace and quiet for a while, watching the trail of moonlight on the water and wishing the fish pond was a little cleaner so he could dive in and go for a swim. The weather was already so warm this time of year in Garreg Mach and he was craving something to snap him out of his funk.

The melodies of the opera played in the back of his mind, a soundtrack to the thoughts slowly clarifying into a conclusion. 

He had already worked hard to stop some of his more overt self-destructive habits. He no longer left a trail of angry women behind him wherever he went. Although he indulged in casual trysts from time to time, they were of a far more respectable nature now and didn’t involve him sneaking out in the morning without a word. And he didn’t drink as much as he used to. Wartime supply interruptions had forcefully helped him kick that habit.

But as his external self-sabotaging decreased, the internal got worse. He had grown out of spiting the world and turned his spite in on himself. Although it was something he knew was happening, Sylvain hadn’t been aware of the full extent of it until tonight, where it was presented so inescapably in front of him.

He couldn’t let himself be happy; that was the simple truth of it. But turning that anger inwards so as to hurt himself and not others wasn’t good enough, was it? Because it still did damage. It still affected the people he was trying to spare from his worst tendencies.

“Fuck this,” he whispered to himself and jumped back up to his feet, brushing the dust off his trousers. “Happy fucking birthday, Sylvain. Let’s go.”

He bounded up the steps to the dining hall two at a time, bursting into the room and scanning the crowd. He caught a glimpse of golden-red hair and made a beeline towards it, eventually seeing Ferdinand sitting at the bar alone, drinking a cup of tea.

His expression lifted as he saw Sylvain and he set his teacup down carefully. But before he could say anything, Sylvain took his hand, gave it a playful tug and said, “Dance with me.”

Ferdinand’s smile brightened in excitement for a moment but by the time they were in the middle of the crowd, nervousness had stolen across his expression. “I am… Well, I am not much acquainted with this kind of dancing. I have been observing, and I think I understand the fundamentals of it, but in practice I fear it will be a bit more challenging.”

“You’ve never let loose in a common tavern, I’m guessing.”

“Sadly, no. I take it you have, though?”

“Yeah. It’s nice to go somewhere where no one knows me,” Sylvain replied. “But here, take my hands and I’ll lead. Don’t worry about footwork or anything. This dancing doesn’t have any rules and is mostly just chaos. Follow my lead and you’ll be fine.”

Ferdinand looked disconcerted at the idea of there being no rules, but he rallied to the occasion and did his best. For a minute, he was a little stiff and Sylvain had to tug him around a bit. Then he began to adapt and moved with more freedom and courage. Eventually, he was laughing and keeping up with Sylvain easily.

Out of the corner of his eye, Sylvain saw Dorothea go over to Ashe and whisper something in his ear. With a nod, Ashe began to play a mellow, melodic song on his fiddle and the energy in the room calmed a bit as the dancing switched to slow, swaying steps. 

Before Sylvain could react, Ferdinand took charge, wrapping one arm around Sylvain’s waist and tugging him closer. He smiled at Sylvain’s startled look and said, “This is more my area of expertise.”

Over Ferdinand’s shoulder, Sylvain saw Dorothea flip him off then smirk and return to Hapi.

“Is something the matter?” Ferdinand asked.

“Oh, nothing.” Sylvain returned his attention to him with a smile that he hoped hid his nervousness at being pressed so close against Ferdinand. “Thanks for the dance.”

“My pleasure. I hope you have enjoyed the night more than you initially expected to.”

“I have,” Sylvain assured him. “This is by far the best birthday I have ever had.”

“And I think this is the most fun I have ever had at the Bimonthly Garreg Mach Opera Night.” 

“I don’t know. There was that time they performed that heretical play Claude found in the Abyss library and Seteth threatened to shut us down for good.”

Ferdinand laughed. “Yes, I suppose that was a memorable night. Thank goodness the professor intervened.”

“Yeah, I don’t know what we’d do without nights like this. When everything is so…” Sylvain trailed off, thinking the better of saying anything too serious. It was a party after all.

“Dark,” Ferdinand said, finishing his sentence. “Yes, these are the times we need joy the most. I think that could be part of the reason everyone has been so eager to seize an excuse to celebrate.”

“If this is the new precedent for birthdays, I wonder what Byleth’s is going to be like. Hers is next, I think.”

“I do not know if theater is much to her liking. Perhaps a good brawling tournament.”

“Good idea.”

Ferdinand did not immediately introduce a new topic of conversation and Sylvain floundered in the silence for a moment, avoiding eye contact and trying to restrain the impulse to lean in even closer. He wasn’t sure what he had intended when he had marched back in here. Was it just to dance? Or was it to take a risk?

It was such a clear opportunity to flirt and Ferdinand was the one who had pulled him into his arms, but on the other hand, Sylvain had meant what he said to Dorothea. He had few close friendships and the idea of risking one terrified him. So what was his plan here? 

He was saved from figuring one out by someone calling out for an upbeat tune and Ashe giving in and playing a more lively song once more. 

“You will have to return to leading now,” Ferdinand said with a woeful smile. “I am still learning, I am afraid.”

“You’re doing great,” Sylvain replied. 

“If you wish to dance with someone else, I would not blame you. I fancy myself a good dancer in a ballroom, but I am out of my element in-”

“I came here to dance with you,” Sylvain interrupted impulsively and he noticed the way Ferdinand’s face flushed a bit at the statement.

The pattern of the dance pulled them away to circle other people for a moment and when they rejoined each other, Ferdinand grabbed Sylvain’s hand and tried to spin him, but he fumbled slightly on the tail end of it and the momentum caused Sylvain to reel. Ferdinand tried to catch him but someone bumped into him from behind and sent him stumbling forward. They knocked into each other and Sylvain had to grab hold of him to keep them from tripping again. 

But as soon as he did, he became suddenly and keenly aware of the feel of Ferdinand’s body in his arms and the fact that his face was so near Sylvain’s own that he could feel Ferdinand’s breath on his lips. They both froze and Sylvain was too distracted to realize he should let go. Then his recklessness got the better of him and he leaned in to rest his forehead against Ferdinand’s.

“It has its hazards, but dancing like this isn’t so bad, is it?” Sylvain said, some old flirtatious impulse seizing him without thinking.

But Ferdinand didn’t respond and when Sylvain pulled back to look at him, he saw an alarmed expression on his face that made him immediately let go and step back.

“Might I, uh… Might I have a word with you? Outside?” Ferdinand said and Sylvain swallowed nervously, nodding in assent.

As he wove through the crowd, following Ferdinand towards the door, Sylvain ran through a variety of different excuses and explanations in his mind. He could say he had been drinking, even though he was sober again at this point. But that would make him look irresponsible and untrustworthy. Maybe his best option was to tell the truth: he had misread the situation and misinterpreted Ferdinand’s demeanor and he was incredibly sorry and he valued Ferdinand’s friendship and it wouldn’t happen again and-

As soon as they stepped out into the shadowy garden on the north side of the dining hall and Sylvain closed the door behind him, Ferdinand reached up and took Sylvain’s face in his hands, kissing him passionately. Caught completely off guard, Sylvain struggled to figure out what was happening even as he found himself eagerly kissing him back.

Once his shock wore off, he pulled back and said, “Wait, wait a moment. Ferdie, have you been drinking?”

“I promise you, I am very sober,” he replied. “I thought you were as well.”

“I am. I’m just surprised. I didn’t think you…”

“You did not realize that my regard for you was of a romantic nature?” Ferdinand asked with a disconcerted look. “And here I thought I was being so obvious! I am sorry if I caught you off guard. I thought for sure you were aware that I had such feelings for you and have for some time.”

Sylvain stared at him in confusion. “You have?”

“Why do you look so astonished?”

“I just…” He knew he shouldn’t ask this question, but he couldn’t stop himself. “Why?”

“You question why I feel this way about you?” Ferdinand asked.

Sylvain worried that his questions were going to ruin everything so before he answered, he fondly tucked a strand of Ferdinand’s hair behind his ear and kissed him slowly and deeply. Then he said, “I just didn’t expect that a guy like you would be interested in a guy like me. You’re always so honorable and kind and optimistic. My reputation is less than… noble.”

“I try to ignore it, but I am well aware that my reputation is not a noble one either. I am the man who abandoned his country and whose house fell into disgrace. At best I am seen as foolish and pitiable, at worst as untrustworthy and ruthless. And you think your old reputation as a philanderer, which has by now mostly faded away, should lessen my regard for you? When you have fought bravely by my side, defended my loyalty when it has been questioned, and helped bring me joy by sharing in the things I love like music and riding and literature?” Ferdinand was getting a little worked up, as he was apt to do, but Sylvain let him continue for he was moved by his words. “Your friendship has meant the world to me during a time I have felt very alone in this world and very hopeless. Combined with my natural attraction to you, feelings of a romantic kind are the most logical I could possibly have! I will not allow you to have any doubts on the matter!”

As soon as Ferdinand finished his speech, Sylvain took him by the waist and turned him around so his back was against the wall. Stepping closer so their bodies were pressed together, he smiled and for a moment enjoyed the wide-eyed look of excitement on Ferdinand’s face. Then he kissed him with nothing held back, his hands tangling in Ferdinand’s hair and his tongue slipping between his lips to explore his mouth.

Ferdinand shifted so Sylvain could press closer and Sylvain caught one of his legs and tucked it around his hips, holding it there with a hand on the back of his thigh. The security that he was  _ not _ fucking this up and  _ not _ setting himself up for casual heartbreak was unfamiliar to Sylvain, but he found it intoxicating. He kissed Ferdinand until his breath was racing and his heart was pounding, and when he paused finally, he laughed – not out of amusement or nervousness, but rather a dizzying sort of delight. Sylvain couldn’t quite describe it, but it felt as if he had been carrying a heavy, leaden weight in his chest without realizing it, but now it was lifted and he felt strangely light and free.

“Is it safe to assume,” Ferdinand said in between panting breaths, “that the feeling is a mutual one?”

“Yes, it certainly is.”

“And you are going to give an angry speech as to your reasons or have we had enough of those for tonight?” Ferdinand asked with a smile.

“I’m not as good at making speeches as you are,” he replied. “So I’ll just say this: you make me happy.” Sylvain kissed his cheek and whispered, “Genuinely happy.” Brushing Ferdinand’s hair out of the way, Sylvain pressed his lips against his neck. “I hope I can do the same.”

As Ferdinand’s breath caught, Sylvain kissed his neck more intently, enjoying the effect it had on him.

“If you would like to dance some more, I would be happy to go back to the party with you. But if you wanted to-” Ferdinand stopped to gasp as Sylvain bit lightly at his skin then ran his tongue over the sensitive mark. “-wanted to perhaps go somewhere where we could be alone…”

Sylvain stopped and looked at him in amazement for a second. If someone had told him yesterday that Ferdinand von Aegir was going to shamelessly proposition him in the middle of the night outside the dining hall, he would have said they were crazy. But then again, for all his courtly manners, Ferdinand was the man who got in a fistfight in the marketplace once with a soldier and came limping back to the monastery covered in the mud of the streets. He was the one who charged into battle without a moment’s hesitation and spoke his mind without forethought quite frequently. The only thing greater than his honor was his impulsiveness.

“And here I thought this birthday couldn’t get any better,” Sylvain said.

“I assure you, this has nothing to do with your birthday. I have been waiting for a moment to tell you how I feel for quite some time, but dancing with you tonight made me feel bold enough to finally say it and now that I have, I am afraid my impatience is getting the better of me after waiting so long. I apologize if I am coming off far too strong. I-”

Before Ferdinand could second-guess himself any further, Sylvain smiled at him and asked, “Your room or mine?”

“The rooms adjacent to mine are used only for storage these days so it would perhaps be more prudent to go there, since we will have more privacy and not have to worry about anyone-” Ferdinand blushed a bit. “-overhearing anything.”

The fact that he could be so eager about everything and yet so flustered trying to put it into words amused Sylvain and he took Ferdinand’s hand as he stepped back and released him from being pinned against the wall. “Lead the way.”

Summoning his nerve, Ferdinand strode boldly through the monastery grounds towards the dormitories, clutching Sylvain’s hand tightly. They kept quiet as they walked, but Sylvain kept stealing glances over at Ferdinand’s intense expression and each time it made him smile. 

The ardency with which Ferdinand lived and fought and loved had always fascinated Sylvain. He used to be jealous of it, until one day he had realized the toll it took on him to be so passionate all the time. 

They had been working in the stables together and Ferdinand, who normally chatted happily with the horses the whole time when he wasn’t talking to Sylvain, had gone uncharacteristically quiet. Sylvain had walked over to the stall he was in to check on him and found him sitting on a hay bale with his head in his hands, shoulders slumped from exhaustion. Without asking any questions, Sylvain had picked up the brush Ferdinand dropped and resumed caring for his horse. Ferdinand had looked up after a few minutes and tried to insist that he could do it, but Sylvain wouldn’t take no for an answer. As he worked, Ferdinand slowly began to explain to him a little of the worry and heartache that he normally hid behind his cheerful manner.

Sylvain couldn’t remember if he had said anything particularly wise or comforting to Ferdinand. He just remembered sticking with him until he had recovered from his exhaustion and stress enough to put himself back together and leave the stables with a confident smile.

Knowing that his energy wasn’t limitless and his spirits were not always so high and hopeful had only made Sylvain respect him more. It made times like this, when that bright, burning energy filled Ferdinand to the brim, so beautiful because Sylvain knew that Ferdinand fought hard to be like this. And the fact Sylvain seemed to provoke that energy from him naturally satisfied him. Around each other, it did seem a little easier to be the versions of themselves they wanted to be.

“Ferdie,” he said as they finally reached the privacy of his room. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

“Tea?” Ferdinand replied, visibly flustered. “I… You do know that I… The reason I suggested we come here was…”

“I know,” Sylvain said and paused for a moment to kiss him. “But I’d like a cup of tea first. We have the whole night, after all. I intend to celebrate my birthday until morning, considering I might never have another one as happy as this. So sit, talk with me for a bit. I would enjoy that, if you would.”

Ferdinand smiled. “I would as well.” He walked over to the table, where he pulled a tea set out of a box. “Bergamot for you, yes?”

“Mhm.”

As Ferdinand busied himself measuring out the tea, he hummed the tune of the Dark Swan Aria. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Sylvain listened to him contentedly as his mind strayed back to the opera. He thought about what Yuri told him, how he hoped that he could form new associations to replace all the painful ones. He thought about Ferdinand leading him back into the cathedral with his hand in his, and how he had held onto it the whole time – a small, innocent gesture of support that had kept Sylvain from walking out and missing what turned out to be one of the best experiences he had had in his adult life.

Before Ferdinand could pour the water into the teapot to heat with a fire spell, Sylvain jumped up and walked over to him, wrapping his arms around Ferdinand’s waist and kissing his neck fiercely. Ferdinand gasped and set down the teapot so abruptly it clattered against the table.

“Would you still want to spend the rest of the night with me once you’ve gotten what you came here for?” Sylvain asked.

Ferdinand turned around to face him and said, “I did not bring you here for a one-night stand, if that is what you think. Perhaps I should have made my intentions clearer, but I am hoping for far more than one night with you.”

Sylvain’s heart lifted and he tugged Ferdinand towards the bed. “In that case, tea can wait.”

“Oh thank goodness.”

They never did end up making the tea. Instead they stayed in bed for the rest of the night, talking and laughing during the hours in between sex and eventually dozing off to sleep as the first bit of sunlight began to glow behind the curtains.

By the time Sylvain woke up around noon, he was starving, sore and greatly in need of a shower. But he was happier than he could remember feeling in years. 

The first night he had seen  _ The Last Eve of Spring _ in Enbarr had been a small, isolated instance of joy that he had held onto so desperately because there had been none to follow it. And although Sylvain was too exhausted to have energy for epiphanies of any kind, he still had a warm, steady feeling filling the space where that heavy weight had been crushing his chest and after a while he did put a word to it. Hope.

**Author's Note:**

> P.S. This world in which Felix and Yuri are two edgy sword boys battling side-by-side to protect Abyss and fight in the war at the same time is one I'm writing right now in a multi-chapter Felix/Yuri fic called "Meandering Sword."


End file.
